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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931477">All in a Christmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_bam16/pseuds/sam_bam16'>sam_bam16</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dreaming in a Nightmare [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All good stuffs, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Flashbacks, Gen, dream pack antics, good old tom foolery, sexual innuendo because why not, super long snapshot, you know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:21:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_bam16/pseuds/sam_bam16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Extra long Christmas special. Dream pack Christmas memories and one celebrated together. Between chapters 104-105 of Nightmare in Henrietta. Cross-posted as a single chapter in Snapshots</p>
<p>Part of the Dreaming in a Nightmare series. Can be read as a standalone but you'll have more fun reading the whole series *wink wink*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dreaming in a Nightmare [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/584929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Joseph Kavinsky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="http://www.sambamart.tumblr.com">sambamart</a>
</p>
<p>Enjoy!<br/>If you've never read my series, my characterizations will make more sense if you do but you can enjoy regardless</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY DECEMBER 24 2009</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joseph sat in his seat at the table, at the ready for his piece of pitka. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were the only two days in the year where this household got so damn Bulgarian, that you wouldn’t even guess they lived in America. Granted, they were so damn Bulgarian like all the time, but Christmas was full blown shebang in your face Bulgaria here we come.</p>
<p>And he loved it.</p>
<p>“You know,” his father snorted as he took the freshly baked pitka out of the breadbasket, “you’re not five to be bouncing that much for just a piece of bread.”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes as his father took his dear sweet time just <em>staring</em> at the bread, Joseph snorted back “You know, Mr. I’m so Bulgarian, I saw you totally checking out the pitka as it was in the oven. Like four times.”</p>
<p>“I was admiring how perfect and pretty it is.” His father tilted his head and smiled to Joseph’s mother who was watching them with unamused eyes and her arms crossed, “Just like the baker.”</p>
<p>“That was so cheesy,” his mother laughed, resting her arms on the dining table, her eyes dancing the way they always did on Christmas Eve. It was a special type of eye dance only for the holidays. And yes, that was possible. “But my man is cheesy.”</p>
<p>He was ready to completely agree but he was worried that having that conversation would take way too long. About as long as his father was taking still staring at the round of bread that was shaped into almost a sun of the sort. There were many traditions to Christmas Eve, one of the biggest ones that mattered to Joseph being the pitka. The head of the household would break the pitka and give each person a piece. Whoever got the coin in their bread would have good fortune the coming year.</p>
<p>Joseph wanted that good fortune. Him and his bae totally needed it for their relationship.</p>
<p>“Mayko, he’s totally trying to cheat and see if he can figure out where the coin is.”</p>
<p>“That’s not even possible,” his father grumbled, though he looked like that had been exactly what he’d been doing. Ripping off a piece without a second glance, he handed it to Joseph’s mother before ripping off another and handing it to Joseph. “You can’t cheat the pitka, brat. The pitka knows all.”</p>
<p>“Mhmm,” Joseph murmured, his focus solely on his nice piece of fluffy bread. Carefully ripping it down to smaller pieces, Joseph searched the remains of his bread, hoping and praying that he got the coin.</p>
<p>Except, unless the coin was microscopic…Joseph had no coin.</p>
<p>“Dammit.”</p>
<p>He felt rather than bothered to face two sets of ‘you’re in deep shit trouble’ eyes. He wasn’t allowed to curse as it was, ironically, not to curse on Christmas Eve. Not on a day when they ate like freaking vegans because that was how important it was.</p>
<p>No one was ripping their bread and the burn was still on his head. Either he turned and faced it like the bull-spirited Bulgarian he was or…he could totally ignore them.</p>
<p>But they all knew that wasn’t an option.</p>
<p>Putting on the brightest smile, he glanced to his father who still hadn’t ripped his piece and instead was watching Joseph with ‘big trouble is coming for you’ eyes. “Did you get the coin?”</p>
<p>Setting down his bread, his father and those sharp eyes of his watched Joseph carefully as he rested into his chair. It was wrong how his button up shirt didn’t even get a single wrinkle with that one movement. Actually, it was just insulting. Joseph couldn’t last two seconds without a wrinkle on him. “Could you say what you said before that?”</p>
<p>Well, physically, yeah, Joseph totally could. Mentally…. “Mhmm?”</p>
<p>“You’re going to really try to play that bull with me right now?”</p>
<p>It was impressive how Christmas Eve could make the man with the filthiest mouth on the planet keep his sentences clean. “I…just really wanted the coin.”</p>
<p>“You don’t need it that bad.”</p>
<p>On the contrary, Joseph needed it that <em>that</em> bad. Lord Kavinsky wouldn’t understand; he wasn’t a gay boy in cruel world trying to make it with his amazing boyfriend. “You’re not really going to dish out punishment on Christmas Eve are you? C’mon, my old pops, you ain’t play like that.”</p>
<p>He could just barely glimpse the tiniest hint of amusement in his father’s eyes. But his stern mouth held its position firm as he crossed his arms. “I send you to school and that’s how you talk? Where’s the education, Mr. Smart?”</p>
<p>“Hue, hue, Mr. Kavinsky, but it is in my brilliant brain.” Joseph waggled his eyebrows with a big smile, that small amused light growing by the second. “You know, as proved by my amazeball grades.”</p>
<p>“Uhuh.”</p>
<p>“Mhmm.”</p>
<p>“So how is it,” his mother began, a sly smile on her face as she rested her chin in her upturned palm, “that my well educated big brained ‘check out my report card’ child can’t seem to find the right words to use?”</p>
<p>Good question. Joseph had a good answer. Of course. He wasn’t the son of Ivo Kavinsky for nothing. Or even the son of Vesela Dobrev Kavinsky. They put two and two together and made him and, well, whether they liked it or not, he was very them. “Hmmm,” Joseph hummed, tapping his chin after eating a bite of his pitka remains. No coin but it sure was delicious. He’d prefer the coin over flavor though. “Maybe he can’t in the same way that you’re very intelligent husband can’t?”</p>
<p>“Ooh, well played baby Kavinsky but I hate to break it to you, my husband is in fact not educated.”</p>
<p>Ripping open his own pitka and searching for the coin, his father snorted “You know, that kind of hurt? I almost finished high school, thank you. Almost.” He ripped his pitka in half again and again until it proved that he didn’t have the coin either. “God dam-” The very unamused woman’s eyebrows to the right of him judged with power. “Dang it,” his father corrected with a laugh, tossing a piece of bread in his mouth, “God dang it.”</p>
<p>Shaking her head in disappointment as she sighed and ripped open the last piece that had to have the coin, Joseph’s mother said “You can’t scold your child and do the same, Ivo. Like really?”</p>
<p>Joseph leaned over the table, his heart at ease knowing that he wouldn’t be getting into trouble today, and watched his mother rip her pieces to get to the coin.</p>
<p>Except she never reached it.</p>
<p>“Huh,” she murmured in confusion, checking her pieces over once more with a careful eye. When it proved there really was nothing there, she glanced over at the remaining pieces that Joseph and his father hadn’t eaten yet. “You guys sure you didn’t get it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m positive,” Joseph snorted. Trust him, he would’ve noticed it with his desperate eyes. “Check yours again.”</p>
<p>She searched through her pieces again, spreading them out on the table. “Nope, nothing.”</p>
<p>His father scanned his once more while chewing the piece in his mouth. “I think I’d know if I ate it.”</p>
<p>This was something Joseph was also sure of. It was nearly impossible not to realize you were chewing on a piece of metal, right?</p>
<p>Right.</p>
<p>“Vesela, did you cheat us of good luck this coming year?” his father laughed, checking over her bread pieces and still finding nothing. He leaned Joseph’s way and gave it a quick check before laughing again, his dimple making its appearance in his glee. “Who makes pitka without a coin? That should be considered a sin.”</p>
<p>Joseph was totally down with that idea. Like literally, he waited every Christmas Eve to see if he’d get the coin for the coming year and yet, he was jipped.</p>
<p>Totally jipped.</p>
<p>It hurt.</p>
<p>“I mean damn, Vesela, I didn’t know you hated us that much.” He gave a focused glance on the nine dishes plated before them. All Bulgarians knew that odd numbers are the saviors for them. It was usually seven, nine, or twelve dishes for Christmas Eve and there had to be garlic, honey, and walnuts placed around the table. Garlic was to protect the house from evil, bad thoughts, and cold. Honey was for a sweet life and shelled walnuts were for the health of the family. Joseph had yet to get a rotten or empty walnut so he hoped his streak kept. “Is it me or there’s no garlic on this table?”</p>
<p>Joseph sat on his knees on the chair and glanced about the various small dishes. So, what? They didn’t have a coin in their pitka and now they were even denied a safe home? “Mayko, why are you setting us up for a bad year?”</p>
<p>“She totally is, isn’t she?”</p>
<p>“Alright, alright,” his mother huffed, getting to her feet with an angry screech of the chair on the cold tile. “I will grab some garlic. Hold your panties, ladies.” She paused on her way to the kitchen, her threatening finger pointing at the pair of them. “Maybe if the two lazy men in the house-”</p>
<p>“Oh no,” his father interrupted, a cheeky smile on his face as he reached out and grabbed a walnut and the cracker, “she’s about to accuse us for being lazy.” Cracking the shell with the expertise of someone who’s been doing it for years, his father’s smile grew wider as he took out the full walnut and showed it off. “I shall be healthy this year, bitches.”</p>
<p>“I give up,” Joseph mother muttered as Joseph and his father laughed at her annoyed look. “I hate both of you.”</p>
<p>“No you don’t,” Joseph snorted, cracking open his own walnut. Plucking the halves of the shell apart, Joseph frowned at the empty shell. It wasn’t enough he didn’t get the coin for him and Emilio, now he had to worry about his health. “Fantastic.”</p>
<p>His father glanced over at Joseph’s empty shell. “Five bucks says you’re gonna get the flu.”</p>
<p>“Gee thanks.”</p>
<p>“I say it with love.”</p>
<p>Love, his merry Christmas ass.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Finlay Swan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>ATLANTA, GEORGIA DECEMBER 24 2009</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finlay kept his eyes closed as his newest foster parent led him to a room. They were different than his seemingly usual type. He’d been through a string of homes since he had been put into foster care after his parents were arrested and none of them had been that great. There’d been horrible, bad, decent, and even one good one but nothing good ever lasted.</p>
<p>Everyone knew that.</p>
<p>At this point in his life, he was going on being in the foster care system as long as he’d been with his parents. Almost seven years in the system and yet here he still was. Bouncing from home to home because he was as much as trash as his few possessions that were in his system-provided black garbage bag.</p>
<p>What type of self-esteem did they think they were inspiring by teaching kids that they only deserved a trash bag? Finlay was lucky he had a decent amount of self-love and confidence that no amount of system or home abuse could break out of him. His parents may have been felons but if there was one thing they had taught him more than the value of every meal was that he was strong and beautiful no matter what.</p>
<p>He wasn’t going to let anyone take that from him.</p>
<p>“Now, I hope you like it,” Mrs. Woodham said, Finlay able to hear the smile in her voice as her old yet delicately soft hand led him along by the elbow. She wasn’t really that old but to his thirteen year old brain, sixty-one was on another level. Mr. Woodham was sixty-five, for fuck’s sake. “If you don’t, that’s okay too. Don’t worry or feel pressured.”</p>
<p>She hadn’t known him long enough to know yet that pressure was nothing to him anymore. He told what was on his mind and that was that.</p>
<p>Finlay had only been a part of the Woodhams for a little more than a month which really wasn’t much of anything. By his experience, it usually took about two before a family decided they weren’t going to put up with him anymore. Unless of course they were enjoying his checks. That was another story.</p>
<p>“And stop,” his foster mother laughed like this was all so much fun. It was alright but Finlay wouldn’t call it fun. Basketball was fun. Motorcycles were fun even if he hadn’t had the chance to experience riding one yet. “Now remember what I said.”</p>
<p>“If I don’t like it, it’s cool,” Finlay relayed, opening his eyes and blinking a few times to get used to seeing again. Then he just blinked because he wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. Well…he did, he wasn’t stupid, but like…</p>
<p>He had no clue what to say.</p>
<p>The older woman smiled at him, her hands clutched together as she stood there in her all white outfit. Finlay was a big fan of white but she always seemed a little washed out when she wore it. Since the day he had met her, she reminded him of Helen Mirren. Except like, even classier. It was funny in a way, really. To his own inside humor, at least. He’d never had such a classy or rich foster family before. To this day, Finlay had no idea why they’d picked him. It wasn’t like their first meeting had gone well. Or their second. Or even their third and final before the paperwork was put through.</p>
<p>What did they even see in him?</p>
<p>Deciding that this wasn’t the time to dwell on his inner turmoil, Finlay laced his fingers behind his back and gave her an awkward smile. He’d been on good behavior since he got here because he at least wanted to enjoy a fancy ass mansion for a little but like…he couldn’t be a faker forever. Finlay had nice ass manners because his parents taught him to but he also had a nasty attitude because his parents taught him that one too.</p>
<p>Even if indirectly.</p>
<p>“So…because I’m black,” Finlay began slowly, trying his best to at least <em>sound</em> polite even if his words weren’t going to be, “you set up shit for Kwanzaa? Isn’t that like racist coming from a white old lady? Stereotyping?”</p>
<p>It surprised him when his chest hurt a little at seeing her smile fall just a bit. He’d never been bothered by offending his other foster families before so why was this white old lady special? She shouldn’t be. “I’m sorry, I just thought that since we are a new family, we should start new traditions together.” Her hands squeezed together just a bit, the only sign that she was really bothered. “But I did say that if you didn’t like it, it’s okay.”</p>
<p>Finlay glanced back at the table she had set up beside the huge Christmas tree they had decorated together last week. She’d told him all about her tradition of using the same ornaments and lights and all that shit every year but because he was here, she wanted them to pick out new stuff together. It’d been a lot of fun; the last time he had decorated a tree was the Christmas before his parents were arrested. Him and his mom had made their tiny tabletop tree shine brighter than any big tree ever could. When Mrs. Woodham took him to this fancy local boutique that Finlay didn’t even think could exist in Atlanta – he apparently came from a whole different part of the city – and told him to go crazy, he had.</p>
<p>Oh, he had.</p>
<p>It was almost a guarantee that the Woodham mansion had never seen a Christmas tree like this one. Finlay had picked the brightest, most colorful decorations that he could find, loving the pop of colors and just the absolute cheesiness that made him think of his mom who was the cheesiest of all the cheeses. Mrs. Woodham said that she loved the colors and Mr. Woodham had said that it brought new life into their empty home, just like Finlay did.</p>
<p>“It’s not that…” Finlay started, only to let his words drift off as he stared at the kinara sitting there with all seven candles at the ready. She even had a basket of fruits set up along with the unity cup beside a pitcher of water. It was like she’d really done her research. She’d tried just for him. Never had any of his foster parents really given a crap about him. It wasn’t that they’d all been monsters, it was just that…no one really cared who <em>Finlay</em> was. He was either a pity project or just there for the money.</p>
<p>Here, in this unlikely home, with these unlikely people, Finlay had been treated more like Finlay than he ever had. Mrs. Woodham had bought him the types of books he’d mentioned that he liked to read, Mr. Woodham had taken him to a motorcycle dealer and spent an hour explaining all the different types, and they’d both only ever been kind to him.</p>
<p>They actually paid attention to him.</p>
<p>Like a family was supposed to.</p>
<p>Mrs. Woodham had done this for him because she probably wanted to integrate him with their family. It’d been a silly offhand comment when they’d been in a home store picking out holiday candles that he’d mentioned that the long white stick candles reminded him of the colorful candles he’d get to light with his dad. Finlay hadn’t been specific in any way and yet she’d found out what he’d been talking about.</p>
<p>Didn’t that mean she cared? That she maybe, just maybe…liked him?</p>
<p>Finlay wanted to be liked. He wanted to be cared about. And maybe…maybe one day if everything went okay with the Woodhams…</p>
<p>Maybe he could be loved too.</p>
<p>He didn’t like this taste of hope. There was nothing more dangerous in a foster kid’s life than hope. It was so rare for things to go right, not for him to hope with all his heart that things would. With these type of people especially.</p>
<p>But…it <em>was</em> Christmas Eve and he was pretty sure those were his presents under the tree right there. Wasn’t he allowed to let himself hope just a little bit? Wasn’t that what Christmas for?</p>
<p>Finlay knew that he’d been quiet for too long when she murmured “If you don’t like it, I’ll put them away. I wasn’t trying-”</p>
<p>“No,” Finlay interrupted shaking his head as he did before walking over to the set table. Finlay couldn’t trace his roots back anywhere in particular because his parents hadn’t known anything either but that was the fun of Kwanzaa. It was for them as African Americans. As black people. They were just them. And that was perfect. “I like it.” Technically Kwanzaa didn’t start for a couple more days but nonetheless, Finlay grabbed the unity cup and poured some water in it. Taking his sip, he held the cup out to his foster mother. “Will you share with me?”</p>
<p>It was like he’d invited her to share a megamillion lottery ticket with him. Her face shone brighter than any light ever could as she accepted the cup and took her sip. “Here’s to a merry Christmas and a joyous Kwanzaa, my dear Finlay.”</p>
<p>Not just Finlay. <em>Her</em> dear Finlay.</p>
<p>Maybe a little Christmas hope and some Kwanzaa love was okay every now and then.</p>
<p>Grabbing the water pitcher, he tipped it towards her with a laugh he hadn’t remembered he had for quite a while now. “Merry Christmas and joyous Kwanzaa, Mrs. Woodham. Cheers!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Xia Jiang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>PHILADELPHIA, PENNSLYVANIA DECEMBER 24 2009</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Technically speaking, Xia didn’t really consider himself Christian. He was more into the whole spirituality thing like his grandparents. Christianity just didn’t really jive for him. Sure, there was Jesus, the wise men, and all that shit but like…it didn’t fit for Xia. The teachings just weren’t interesting enough for him. He couldn’t imagine putting all his faith in this faith. Xia had no faith in the faith.</p><p>It wasn’t a pun but it was a good one. Faith in faith.</p><p>He understood himself.</p><p>Xia stared at their Christmas tree, looking way too cliché for him. It looked like every other Christmas tree he had ever seen in magazines, on tv, in movies, and the list could go on and on and on. Which was to say that their tree was boring. He may not be into Jesus but Jesus deserved better than millions of cliché trees all over the world.</p><p>Plopping down beside him on the floor where he sat with his back to their tv cabinet, Jia elbowed him and whispered “Did you see how weird Mai’s hair looked? What’d she do to it?” She snapped her fingers, acting like the know-it-all she was. In a bad way. “It looks terrible.”</p><p>Giving his sister a dirty look, Xia snorted “It looks nicer than yours.” She went for another elbowing but his elbow got her first as he laughed with glee. “Loser. Why you always so slow?”</p><p>“It looks like an ugly ass bowl cut, dude. She’s like one of those stereotypical Chinese girls. Why’s she gotta make it hard for girls like me?”</p><p>Turning his head and really giving a good long look to the jerk beside him, Xia wondered if it was worth all the change she’d done. They were a year apart with him being older but they’d always considered themselves twins as they grew up to the point that even their family or anyone who knew them did. But as they reached middle school, Xia felt like he’d been dumped and had met this new girl Jennie from God knew where. It was like suddenly, being Chinese wasn’t cool anymore. She didn’t like it. It didn’t fit in with the popular girls. He wasn’t sure how changing her name, clothes, and attitude made a difference when she had a freaking Chinese face but what did he know?</p><p>He was too Chinese to know about the ‘cool kids, Xia.’</p><p>“She’s aunt Mai, dude, what’s wrong with you?” Aunt Mai was as weird as they came but she was still his father’s sister and honestly, Xia wished he lived with her and his grandparents instead of his parents and siblings. “And anyways,” he added with a snort, “what’s her hair have to do with you?”</p><p>Okay, so her hair did look bad with the bowl cut, bangs, and pink roots but it made her an individual. Xia liked being an individual too. He just couldn’t seem to convince his parents to let him be one. He’d wanted to try bleaching his hair but they’d said no. He’d wanted an earring, even just a clip-on, they’d said no. Xia wanted clothes close to the ones he’d see his favorite C-pop groups in and even that was a no.</p><p>Why was Jia allowed her phases and he wasn’t?</p><p>“It makes people think all Chinese girls are weird like that.” Scratching at the last of her gold nail polish that she’d said was way too ‘trap hooker’ style for her, Jia added “I like being American. I’m totally an all-American girl without her making people think that that’s what Chinese girls are supposed to be like.”</p><p>Since they were both born in Philly, like their older brother and younger sisters, they were American automatically. But it seemed Xia never understood what she meant. Or at least, that was what she always said.</p><p>He missed when Jia was Jia and not Jennie. Jia was way more fun.</p><p>“You ever wonder why our Christmas tree is always so cliché,” Xia murmured, not really caring but wanting to change the subject as he stretched out beside the presents under the tree. They weren’t allowed to open even one on Christmas Eve. Hell, they weren’t even allowed to peek in the stockings even though they all knew what was in there already. It wasn’t like they ever changed. “Our stockings too.”</p><p>Jia glanced at their tree before she shrugged without a care. “It looks like a tree. What’s it supposed to look like?”</p><p>“Don’t you always feel like it has no identity? I mean, we don’t even get to pick our own ornaments. It always has to be those.”</p><p>Always.</p><p>It annoyed Xia so much. He may not be into religion and he may not really care about these things but he felt like his parents tried so hard to make them like everyone else. Which was fine in a way but like, why did they have to erase the rest of their identity? Xia loved listening to stories and myths that his grandparents told him. Jia used to too. It had been their favorite thing. His parents didn’t even celebrate Chinese New Year and wouldn’t really let them either. It was all about New Year’s Eve or whatever. His grandparents would slip him his red envelope in secret.</p><p>Only once had he ever gotten to celebrate a true Chinese New Year for the full festival days and he’d later learned that his father had yelled at his grandparents for it. It wasn’t their religion or it was paganism or whatever it was he’d said. Both his parents were Chinese for damn sake. How was it not for them?</p><p>“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to at least pick some ornaments,” Jia murmured, resting her chin on his hip. It hurt, goddamn. “Something pink would be super cute. Or glitter.”</p><p>He wasn’t into pink or glitter but at least she agreed with him.</p><p>“A pink stocking would be nice too.” From just the movement of her chin, he knew his sister had scrunched the nose she hated so much. He thought it was cute but what did he know? He was Chinese and she was American. Their older brother was even more American if that was actually a thing. According to Chen it was; except of course, he was ‘I told you to call me Chris.’</p><p>Obviously, that’d be said with anger.</p><p>It was funny. Why name them Chinese names but then want them to use English ones? Xia didn’t want an English name; he liked being Xia. Shaun was a stupid name anyways. Did he look like a fucking Shaun? No the fuck he didn’t. Shaun, his tiny Chinese ass.</p><p>“How much you wanna bet Chris got us something totally for five year olds?” Jia snorted as she dragged herself up to a sitting position before sighing loudly. Chen was three years older but he acted like he was way older than them. Or that they just hadn’t grown out of the single digits. “When will you people realize that I’m thirteen?”</p><p>For someone who just turned thirteen like two weeks ago, man, was she owning it. “And I’m gonna be fourteen, what’s the big shit?”</p><p>“Gonna,” she snorted, snapping her fingers in his face, her loose long hair swaying with her. “You ain’t there yet, honey. And don’t say shit, you shit.”</p><p>“Shit, your face, ugly.”</p><p>“Excuse me, what words am I hearing? On Christmas Eve, no less.”</p><p>Both he and Jia passed unamused glances to their father. The man could never be scary to save his life. It was a wonder every single one of his kids were monsters when he was so soft spoken. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get mean or angry, because, damn, could he, but his voice was just too soft for it to be effective. “What the fuck is Christmas? I’m Chinese, man. I celebrate New Years.”</p><p>Jia giggled but elbowed him so he could shut his face as their father’s turned a really bright red. <em>Really.</em> Xia was in fact their problem child. Big time problem in many many ways. He was pretty sure he was the disliked one too. “Shaun-”</p><p>“Xia, old man. You know, the name on my birth certificate?” Maybe he wouldn’t have been so annoyed about something that happened every day but he was already annoyed today. “Sound it out with me now. <em>Shi-ah. </em>Xia!”</p><p>“Xia, get over here,” his grandmother laughed as she walked into their living room, literally pushing his father to the side. They had two living rooms like all the rich kids did; one fancy one and one fancy one. They didn’t do regular in this house. “What am I going to do about that rude tongue?” She patted the arm of the chair she sat in, “Come, come.”</p><p>Not even bothering to apologize to his father who was still very much fuming, Xia crawled over because walking was over-rated. Setting his chin on his grandmother’s knee, he gave her his most charming smile and said “Got anything good for your favorite grandchild, nai nai?”</p><p>“I might,” she chuckled. His grandmother was closer to really old compared to just old but she was a tough one. Nothing was going to take down this healthy old woman. “But I don’t like such a nasty mouth. Where’s the manners?”</p><p>He eyed the little box she had walked in with, excitement growing in his chest. His grandmother could give him a piece of paper and he’d be happy about it. There wasn’t anyone Xia loved more than his grandparents. Mai came second and his parents came after Jia who was next. His other three siblings were just kind on the list for the hell of it, though Chen was totally last. He loved his family but like, stress, for Jesus’ sake.</p><p>For spirit’s sake. Ain’t no Jesus for Xia.</p><p>“I know that Christmas isn’t your favorite,” his nai nai began, giving him a little wink because she knew how deep his frustration with American life truly ran. Actually, he should say his lack of Chinese life instead. “But I’ve got something special for you. And it’s in the Christmas spirit.”</p><p>She knew that he wasn’t a Christmas boy so for her to say it’s Christmas-y, it had to be special in some way. It had to be, even just a little, Chinese. Xia was sure he knew all the traditions for a ‘Chinese’ Christmas which was a weird combo in the first place because he read that back in China, Christmas wasn’t a religious thing. It was like consumerism or something.</p><p>“Alright, well, let’s have a looky see.”</p><p>“Do I get something?” Jia asked, her chin suddenly in his shoulder. She always had to dig it in. “Come on, nai nai, you don’t have to always show off how much you love Xia more than us. I want a gift too.”</p><p>Their grandmother laughed, shaking her head as she held out the box for Xia. “You have Christmas gifts, you know I would not forget anyone. But this is a little more towards Xia’s style. I don’t think you’ll like this one.”</p><p>Giving his fancy red box a little twist and turn as he planted his butt flat down on the carpet, Xia gave it a little shake before shrugging and setting it in his lap. Plucking the shiny flaps open, Xia squinted as he glanced down at something so seemingly…mundane? Pulling out an apple, although it was probably the most pretty and perfect apple he had ever seen, Xia glanced over to his grandmother. “An apple?”</p><p>“You’re right,” Jia said with a nod, “I don’t really care for this one.”</p><p>“It’s not really my time but in China, on Christmas Eve,” his nai nai began, that old lady nostalgic tone running smooth and bright through her voice, “we give out apples on Christmas Eve. Have a guess why?”</p><p>Xia took a good long look at his now special apple, if only because it was Chinese, trying to figure out the riddle. Apples for Christmas Eve? “Only on Christmas Eve?”</p><p>Stretching out her short legs and setting her feet on his knee, her ugly brown knit socks saying hello to him, his grandmother answered “Well, I guess you can be late if you’d like.”</p><p>Okay so, Christmas Eve it was… “Is this some shit ass wordplay?” He heard an angry huff from behind him but that was so not Xia’s problem. It was his father’s moral’s problem. “Ping’an Ye…” he squinted at his adorable apple, “and ping guo?”</p><p>It was a stupid connection. Give apples because the word sounds like Christmas Eve?</p><p>Only the Chinese, goddamn their fine asses.</p><p>“Ping’an Ye and Ping guo,” Xia repeated, shaking his head in distaste at his grandmother as he took a huge bite from his apple. “Lame ass, grammy lady, lame ass.”</p><p>His grandmother laughed, making him laugh because she just had that kind of goofy face. “Lame ass, I know, lame ass. Merry Christmas, Xia.”</p><p>“Pft, Christmas Eve, old lady.” He took another huge bite, purposefully crunching loudly. “It’s fucking Ping’an Ye.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sasha Prokopenko</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>EAST VILLAGE, NEW YORK, NEW YORK DECEMBER 24 2009</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe I could be a proper drag queen with a scarf like this. What do you think, bestie?”</p>
<p>Sasha glanced over from the box of ornaments he had brought down from upstairs to Nico who had wrapped himself up in baba’s silver tinsel garland. Thee silver tinsel garland that was the one thing they were never allowed to play with. They could break every ornament and rip every garland on the planet but if there was one thing they could never abuse, it was the silver tinsel.</p>
<p>Never.</p>
<p>“If there is even one piece off it, she’ll kill you, you know. I swear to God, she has the little pieces counted or something.”</p>
<p>Nico pouted only to break into a laugh, wrapping the garland around himself even more. The thing was like ten feet, so there wasn’t much Nico left to find once he’d wrapped himself well. “I never wanted to be a drag queen anyways. I’d rather be-”</p>
<p>“A pile of tinsel?”</p>
<p>Sticking his tongue out under the garland that literally covered everything of his face except the tip of his nose and his mouth, Nico snorted “I’m the most gorgeous pile of tinsel you’ve ever seen, buddy.”</p>
<p>Adorable. Truly. Shaking his head as he turned back to his box of ornaments which he opened up to reveal just a piece of his grandmother’s grand collection, Sasha replied “Uhuh. Totally. Never seen a prettier one in my life. Jesus.”</p>
<p>“Your sarcasm isn’t cute,” Nico snorted, unwrapping himself carefully to be sure that he didn’t shed the garland of any of its sparkle. Evidence of abuse to her beloved garland would cause them great suffering. “What’s our color scheme this year?”</p>
<p>Sasha wasn’t too sure yet. He’d taken out all of his grandmother’s ornament boxes – five to be exact – and was going to choose via staring for a long time. Baba’s favorite was doing silver and gold but him and Nico liked to go a little outside the horizons. They didn’t have to be classy all the time. Where was the fun in that?</p>
<p>But even when they got to pick whatever ornaments and colors they wanted, the silver garland always had to stay. It was the house rule. Not that Sasha minded in any way. The silver gave a pretty shine to their tree. They draped some on the rail of the staircase and along their kitchen counters too. They were a festive bunch who liked to shine. “How are we going to do your guys’ tree this year? We shouldn’t have them matching.”</p>
<p>“My mom wants purples,” Nico said as he and the garland made it over to the huge tree. Sasha’s grandmother always went to the same guy for their tree. It was quite a few miles out but she was a loyal customer alright. She’d never go to anyone else saying that Demitri always kept her in mind by picking her the best tree he had.</p>
<p>Maybe it was true. Who knew? He always made sure that they’re tree was full, green, and huge.</p>
<p>That was some form of affection, alright.</p>
<p>Sasha shut the box that was filed with pinks and purples and moved it to the side. “Okay then, no purples for us.” They didn’t like matching. The best part of tree decorating was always having a unique tree. “Maybe blues this year?”</p>
<p>“Blues are nice,” Nico said as he dragged out the special tree decorating stool. It was bright red and was only allowed for tree decorating. Baba’s rules. They took it out of the closet twice a year; once to set up and once to take down. Maybe a third time for some adjustments. “And we can mix in some yellows maybe.”</p>
<p>Sasha nodded as he pushed the red box away and grabbed the blue. “Colorful yet classy. I like it.” Popping open the lid, he stared down at his assortment of blues. One could say that all they needed was some blue ornaments but it wasn’t until you were staring down at your grandmother’s assortment of blues that you remembered that there were a whole ton of styles.</p>
<p>A whole shit ton.</p>
<p>Some had little bits of silver, some gold, others were darker, while there were some that were lighter. There was no one definition of blue. His grandmother made sure of it. “Pick a number.”</p>
<p>“What do the numbers determine?”</p>
<p>He had no idea. It just seemed like a way to choose things. “Good point. Eenie meany?”</p>
<p>“Wait, wait!” Nico shouted, looking as though he wanted to bounce but thought better of it while on the decorating stool, arms filled with foot after foot of garland. “I got it! Spell out ‘Prokopenko’ and that’s how we’ll pick which ornaments to use.”</p>
<p>Dropping onto his butt from the crouch he’d been stuck in for the past ten minutes, Sasha nodded over at Nico who started to wrap the tree from the top. “Why do I have to do the hard work?”</p>
<p>Nico didn’t need to face him for Sasha to see the eye roll. “It’s your last name, not mine.”</p>
<p>“I thought you’re an honorary Prokopenko?”</p>
<p>“Not for the hard work, bestie.”</p>
<p>“Lazy ass,” Sasha snorted, causing Nic to giggle in that weirdly annoying and yet endearing way. “You only want me for my money, you leach.” He played the first round of ‘Prokopenko’ and then a good few more until he had a decent pile of assorted blues. “Yellows you said?”</p>
<p>The stool squeaked against the hardwood floor. “Yes’m, sugar daddy.”</p>
<p>Sasha rolled his eyes as he dragged over the yellows box with its own ugly squeak. They used to worry about scratching the floors when they were little but they’d gotten over that a long time ago. Bába couldn’t beat the dragging habits out of them. Not that she beat them anyways, but her words were usually strong enough for some reprimanding.</p>
<p>“Did you pick me something ultra-fabulous for Christmas?”</p>
<p>Deciding that playing ‘Prokopenko’ took way too much time, Sasha just picked ornaments at random until he was satisfied with the number. He glanced at the pile beside him and nodded in satisfaction. This would be plenty. “Have I ever not picked you something ultra-fabulous?” Getting to his feet and carefully filling his sweatshirt pocket with the ornaments, Sasha snorted “Everything I pick is ultra-fabulous, little bastard.”</p>
<p>Bouncing off the stool with arms up in flourish, Nico grabbed the garland that hung from a now top decorated tree and began walking around the tree with it in hand. They’d tried the whole ‘decorate properly as you go’ thing but it wasn’t for them. Placement then adjustments was way better. Less tiring too.</p>
<p>When you had a good system, you should never mess with it.</p>
<p>“Are you judging my height?”</p>
<p>“Maybe?”</p>
<p>Nico made an ugly farting nose before breaking into a laugh as he came around the tree from behind, another foot or two of garland to go. They still had the rest of the bottom floor to cover with the rest of the garlands. “Okay, I see how it is. See if I fill your stocking with something nice. I’m going to put the ugliest piece of coal in it. Just you wait.”</p>
<p>Making his way over with his sweatshirt pocket full of blue ornaments, Sasha snorted “Do you even know where to get the ugliest piece of coal from? I don’t think Walmart carries such a thing. And you know how it goes, if Walmart doesn’t have it, then no one does.” He picked out a couple ornaments from his pockets and began hanging them, “Plus, like, how can you guarantee that it's the ugliest piece ever? You’re not privy to that info. Only Santa is. He knows all.”</p>
<p>Nicolas’ eyes went wide and became very unimpressed as he stood there with his miles of silver. “You did not just try to ‘Santa’ me.”</p>
<p>Sasha laughed as he hung a few more before moving to the side to work there. It didn’t matter how many times he’d decorated a tree in his life, it never got old. He loved every second of it. There was something relaxing about it. “Who knows? Maybe you still believe in Santa? You’ve never explicitly mentioned otherwise.”</p>
<p>“Don’t make me choke you with tinsel,” Nico laughed, looping the garland around Sasha’s neck from his higher ground on the decorating stool. He gave it a little tug, causing Sasha to take a step back because the last thing they needed was to rip it. Good Lord, baba would kill them both. With the remnants of her ruined decoration. Nico looked down at him as Sasha glanced up and stuck his tongue out, “Yo.”</p>
<p>“So how’s this gonna go? Dinner for Christmas Eve or breakfast for Christmas Day? My place, your place, out in the street?”</p>
<p>“Ew, don’t make it seem like we’re trashy, Sasha.” Unleashing him from the tinsel, Nicolas yawned as he said “My mom wants to cook dinner this year so you guys to us first and then us to you guys.”</p>
<p>That worked. Really, anything worked. It didn’t matter. Christmas wasn’t really about Christmas for him. Sasha could honestly care less. As long as he had his grandmother and Nico, that was all that mattered. That was what Christmas was for him.</p>
<p>He was a simple soul. Sasha was that cheesy guy that said that the holidays were about family and nothing else. Because really, that was all that mattered.</p>
<p>That, and a silver tinsel garland, of course.</p>
<p>“Be honest here,” Sasha began as he continued his ornament hanging. He had to go back to his pile to fill his pocket with some more before he returned to the tree. “Can you imagine us having a Christmas without silver tinsel? Like, even when we’re super old and crinkly.”</p>
<p>“And wrinkly?”</p>
<p>“And totally wrinkly.”</p>
<p>Nico laughed as he jumped off the stool, though that foot really wasn’t worth such effort or excitement, and pushed it along with a screech. “Bestie, when we’re totally wrinkly, crinkly, and stinkly-”</p>
<p>Pausing his hanging of his yellows, Sasha snorted “Why do we have to stink? Can’t we be functional old?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Harsh.”</p>
<p>With a big smile stretched across his face, Nico rested the garland on some branches before stretching it out to more and continued “When we’re wrinkly-”</p>
<p>“Crinkly, and stinkly, yeah, got it, keep going.”</p>
<p>“<em>When we are</em> crinkly, stinkly, and wrinkly-”</p>
<p>“Wrong order of words.” Sasha laughed as Nico reached around, trying to slap him. He missed of course and even if he hadn’t, his slaps were crap. “Loser. Focus on the tinsel. Do proper work, bestie. No sloppy jobs.”</p>
<p>Sticking his tongue out before focusing back on his work, Nico attempted to finish once more. Sasha let him have it. “No matter our age, you and I will always decorate with the beloved silver tinsel. Because that’s what makes Christmas special. Even just one Christmas without a silver garland will ruin all Christmases.”</p>
<p>“All?”</p>
<p>“All.”</p>
<p>He nodded as he hung up his last yellow ornament. The tree needed a few more ornaments so he’d have to pick out some more from the blue and yellow boxes. “I agree.”</p>
<p>Because what was a Christmas without silver tinsel? It would be as bad as having a Christmas without Nic and baba. It just didn’t work without all three. It was simplified view of what was a very religious holiday to many but for Sasha, that was all he wanted and needed.</p>
<p>It was as simple as that.</p>
<p>“Merry Christmas, bestie,” Sasha said, taking an ornament of the tree and hanging it on the waistband of Nico’s pants. “Couldn’t have one without you.”</p>
<p>“No duh,” Nicolas laughed, winking down at him as he grabbed an ornament and hung it off Sasha’s hoodie. “Love you, bae. Lots and lots.”</p>
<p>“Lots and lots,” Sasha echoed, shaking his head as he unhooked their ornaments and held out one to Nico. “Cheers?”</p>
<p>Nicolas rolled his eyes but he took the ornament anyways. ‘Clinking’ their ornaments together, they laughed and shouted “Merry Christmas!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Blake Skovron</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>OMAHA, NEBRASKA DECEMBER 24 2009</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Blake.”</p>
<p>A hand grasped his hair and pulled his head back, revealing one of too many brothers. Jeb blinked down at him, Blake’s hair still in his ugly grasp. His brothers like to grab him by the hair and Blake thought that maybe they were just jealous he had the best hair. Or, that’s what his private tutor had told him once. Not that he had that tutor anymore.</p>
<p>One of many in his life.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” Blake asked, reaching the point of not caring because he was fast learning that his older brothers, all four of them, were jerks. He always wondered if his half brother was a jerk too but there was no one he could ask. Pushing the hand that held his head, Blake said “I told you to stop touching my hair.”</p>
<p>Jeb let go but it was more of a shove than anything else before he sat down next to Blake. “What are you coloring?”</p>
<p>Blake flicked a glance at Jeb, number three of the Skovron brothers. He was four years older than Blake and made sure that the world knew it, even if Blake was only two grades under him. It was like an insult for Jeb that his barely eleven year old brother was already an eighth grader. It didn’t even bother Michael as much as it bothered him. And there was only a year between them. “Why do you care?”</p>
<p>He knew his brother didn’t and the shrug proved it as he stretched out on the carpet and pulled out his phone. Blake didn’t have a phone yet but his mother had promised him that once he hit high school, she’d get him one. “I don’t. Just being polite to you and your constant coloring. Geez. You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>Not bothering to reply, Blake focused back on the Christmas coloring page his therapist had given him. It was probably one of the most complicated coloring pages ever but that was probably why he was enjoying it so much. There were so many components to color and so many lines to stay within and yet, there was so much room for freedom and creativity.</p>
<p>It was perfect.</p>
<p>His family, especially his brothers, told him that he was just a bit high strung and Blake couldn’t disagree. Being a half-prodigy was stressful. He would’ve preferred just being that smart kid at his grade level than being regular in upper classes.</p>
<p>But that wasn’t up to him.</p>
<p>“Do you think it looks nice so far?” Blake couldn’t help but ask even though he knew his brother didn’t really care after a few silent minutes of Jeb scrolling on his phone. He hadn’t colored much yet but a combination of his regular colored pencils and the new metallic ones his therapist had got him made the bits he’d done of the tree shine.</p>
<p>Some blue was needed on his ornaments. His favorite color was sea green but his brothers said that was being too picky so Blake picked blue over green. Not that he didn’t like both of them.</p>
<p>“Yeah, looks good,” Jeb mumbled as he read something.</p>
<p>“Can you at least look?”</p>
<p>With a sigh, Jeb dragged himself up to the coffee table and peeked over to his coloring page. He rested his chin in his hand as he tilted his head. “How’d you get it to sparkle like that?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t worth puffing with pride because he could tell from his brother’s voice that he was impressed but Blake did anyways. Jeb was one of the hardest to ever impress or get a nice word out of. “Dr. Luther bought metallic colored pencils for me to use on my Christmas page.”</p>
<p>Over his short eleven years, Blake had gone through three therapists. So far, Dr. Luther was his best. The last two just…didn’t work. They kept treating him like he was a child. And yes, he was very obviously a child, but Blake was smarter than they gave him credit for and that wasn’t okay. How was a therapist supposed to help him if they didn’t even understand the basics of what being Blake Skovron was?</p>
<p>Jeb’s mouth twisted to the side, kind of up and kind of down. It was his ‘I’m impressed but I’m not’ face. “Not bad, not bad. Could be worse.”</p>
<p>What Jeb said and what his body was saying was completely different and Blake wasn’t sure which one to trust. Biting on the corner of his lip while not meeting his brother’s eyes, Blake grabbed a metallic green pencil and said softly “Doesn’t that imply that it’s actually ugly?”</p>
<p>“You’re thinking too hard again. It’s good. All shiny and stuff, so stop chewing your lip before mom sees it again. She’ll kill you. Again.”</p>
<p>There was one thing that all the Skovron brothers had in common and it was caused by the one thing they all shared.</p>
<p>Allison Skovron, née Richardson.</p>
<p>Their mother.</p>
<p>She was not an easy person at all. All of them had nervous tics because of her and them reminding the other to stop before she noticed, even when they were upset, was what kept them brotherly. It was probably the only thing that kept their differing personalities from killing each other all the time. They came together during hardships.</p>
<p>Their mother was, in fact, a hardship.</p>
<p>Dragging his lip out from between his teeth with a finger, Blake sighed as he overlayed the metallic green atop the base green he’d put for his tree. He’d always wondered why he couldn’t seem to get along with his brothers the way his brothers got along with each other. He was always kind of just left out between everyone. It was in part because he was the youngest, he knew that, but like, he was sure they had to have something in common to have fun with.</p>
<p>Plus, he was super smart. Blake could totally be and act their age. He could be cool even. One day, he’d totally prove it too.</p>
<p>They’d see. Just they wait.</p>
<p>“I see Blakey’s coloring again.” Wilhelm hung his head over Blake and his coloring page. The oldest of the Skovrons was closer to annoying than anything else. He thought because he was an ‘adult’ at eighteen, he got to act all superior to them. It even annoyed Jebediah who only really ever got annoyed by Blake.</p>
<p>It was nice when he wasn’t the only one being blamed for being an annoyance.</p>
<p>“Blake,” he corrected, trying not to show just how much that stupid nickname got on his nerves. One day, he truly believed he’d end up hitting his brother for it. He wasn’t sure when that day would come but it was somewhere, alright. One day, Wilhelm was going to push Blake too hard.</p>
<p>One day.</p>
<p>Grabbing his gold colored pencil but not coloring because Dr. Luther always told him that coloring while angry would yield him ugly results, Blake said “I’ve told you a million times not to call me that.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jeb laughed as he got to his feet after rubbing Blake’s head, “Blakey’s told you a million times, man. Get with it.”</p>
<p>The fact that they thought they were hilarious as they walked off laughing and talking about something that was apparently not for his ears was ridiculous. Both of them were just jerks. Blake was smarter and cooler, even if they didn’t realize it.</p>
<p>With a sigh and a toss of his gold pencil because he was over coloring at this point, Blake got to his feet and walked across the family room until he reached the hall to the living room. Sticking his head in, he peaked around the room to be sure it was empty before smiling with glee.</p>
<p>Blake made his way over to their large fireplace, resting his head on the mantle to stare at their Advent wreath. The rule in their house was that once the clock struck six, whoever made it to the wreath first got to light the candle of that day. As it was Christmas Eve, today was the day for the last candle that sat in the middle of their evergreen wreath to be lit. It was only five-thirty but Blake didn’t mind waiting here for the next half hour if he had to.</p>
<p>He hadn’t gotten to light a single candle this year. Or last year. There were five and they were five brothers and his brothers didn’t like to share. Plus, usually his mother lit the candle in the middle so usually one brother lost out.</p>
<p>That brother was usually Blake.</p>
<p>Last Sunday, when it came time to light the fourth candle, Jeb had literally rammed him into the wall to beat him to it. Blake still had the ugly bruise on his upper arm. It was funny because they all liked to talk about how grown up they were and whatever but they were totally ready for battle when it came to the candles.</p>
<p>Such children.</p>
<p>But since Blake was already here, he should win today. He didn’t even care if he was going to take his mother’s turn. She was the mom; she should let Blake do it anyways.</p>
<p>For the next fifty-five minutes, Blake stood there in silence, waiting for the clock to chime. Him and the single candle left waited patiently, not a soul nor sound invading their alone time.</p>
<p>Until there was only two minutes left.</p>
<p>The matches were already in his hands, his excited body totally at the ready to get to light his first candle of the past two years. He thought he heard someone’s feet sliding quietly along the tile floor but Blake wasn’t going to turn. This was it; the candle was his. It’d been claimed.</p>
<p>Or so he had thought.</p>
<p>“What have you got there?” Brent asked, right behind Blake’s ear, making him jump. His heart was thumping against his rib cage and his hands had gone slack.</p>
<p>His mistake.</p>
<p>In that one second, his second brother slipped the matchbox from Blake’s hands and took a match out, lighting it with a smirk. “Oops, looks like you weren’t fast enough,” he laughed as he set the match on the wick of the tall white candle, looking pretty in the wreath. Blowing out the match in Blake’s face, he added “Maybe next year.”</p>
<p>Blake had actually expected himself to cry because he’d been so close and this was all so unfair but his own reaction had surprised him. He didn’t even know that he’d clocked his arm back before his fist was suddenly smashed into Brent’s nose.</p>
<p>The matchbox fell to the floor, thankfully staying closed, but Blake was soon following, Brent shoving him down hard and fast. He caught himself with his hands but his wrists would not be thanking him later. “You little shit! Keep those tiny hands to yourself!” Brent snapped in a nasally voice, his hand cupping his nose. It wasn’t bleeding but at least it’d hurt.</p>
<p>Playground justice had prevailed.</p>
<p>Noisy enough to attract some attention, Jeb and Michael came in, their mother hot on their heels. Anytime there was yelling between them, they were all dead. Blake wasn’t sure if the candle was worth getting them all in trouble but right in this moment with Brent still holding his nose, it felt totally worth it.</p>
<p>Totally.</p>
<p>Getting to his feet with a giddy giggle after grabbing the matches, Blake took one out and blew out their last candle on the wreath. If he was going to get in trouble, he might as well do everything at one time. Why get two punishments when he could get one collective one?</p>
<p>He heard his mother snap his name but before Blake gave into his panic, he lit a match and quickly relit the candle with a bounce of glee. “Merry Christmas!” he shouted after blowing out the match, his hands up to the sky. Bouncing around until he faced his angry looking mother and confused brothers, Blake laughed “Merry Christmas, guys!”</p>
<p>Jeb and Wilhelm looked at him like he was crazy but Michael burst into laughter, making Blake smile wider. It took a second but Jeb and Wilhelm followed before Brent wrapped an arm on Blake’s shoulders and gave him a shake. “Merry Christmas, you little shit.”</p>
<p>Blake laughed before his eyes caught with his mother’s. “Merry Christmas!” he repeated to her, in case she didn’t get the message. Maybe he wouldn’t get in trouble.</p>
<p>She crossed her arms, looking a little too stern for him. “Really, Blake.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>He was a dead man.</p>
<p>“For a candle?”</p>
<p>Trying his best not to bite his lip, Blake’s arms drooped as he murmured “I wanted to light one. Advent is special.”</p>
<p>His mother snorted before that snort because something else.</p>
<p>A laugh.</p>
<p>Thank God.</p>
<p>Smiling as he watched her cover her mouth as she laughed, Blake asked “Merry Christmas?”</p>
<p>Rolling her eyes as she shook her head in what was supposed to probably be disappointment with her straight hair swinging with her, his mother snorted “Merry Christmas. Keep your hands to yourself next time. God wants you to light his candles but he doesn’t want it through assault, you know.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Dream Pack</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>HENRIETTA, VIRGINIA DECEMBER 24 2012</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You ever wonder why we just blindly listen to Kavinsky whenever he wants something?” Xia asked as he drove over to the fairgrounds with Swan in his passenger seat. It was kind of stupid to drive separately when they lived close together and were going to the same location. They only went separately if they wanted to race their cars. “Like, he says ‘come, kittens,’ and we’re all like ‘yes, papa.’”</p>
<p>“’Come kittens’ and ‘yes, papa’, huh?” Swan snorted, shaking his head against the window that he rested against. He’d spent the past three hours writing an essay for the stupid winter class he’d signed himself up for so he was a little blah. Who the fuck signed up during break? Swan had no one to blame but himself. “You’re a dumbass, man, swear to God.”</p>
<p>“Ain’t no-”</p>
<p>“God for you, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Swan finished for him. Glancing at him with a squinty look, Swan asked “Why do you bother with Christmas then? Like, you even gave Charles call me Chuck an ornament to put on his tiny ass Christmas tree.”</p>
<p>Xia shrugged as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Him and Christmas had a weird love/hate relationship and they didn’t mind keeping it that way between themselves. “If it’s in my room, I deserve to put an ornament. I believe it is my right.”</p>
<p>“Just saying.”</p>
<p>“Anyways, focus here. It’s deadass eleven at night, we broke dorm curfew-” Swan cut him off with ugliest, most fucking pretentious snort on the planet. Somehow, it was worse than even the one K did yesterday. Giving him a nasty glare, Xia asked “Problem?”</p>
<p>“Man, when the fuck have we <em>not</em> broken curfew? What dumbass complaint is that?”</p>
<p>Trying not to give in and laugh because there was no truer statement, Xia blatantly ignored the man in the brightest green he’d ever seen that wasn’t even neon and continued “And we’re just la di da driving over to the fairgrounds in this fuck ass cold because Kavinsky sent a text. Do you ever wonder why we just la di da?”</p>
<p>The man in the offensive green shirt rubbed his chin in thought as if that was ever something he’d ever done. Was he trying to be classy? Because it wasn’t working in that shirt. “We’re a crew. It’s just what crews do.”</p>
<p>He was going to comment on that but first things first because it was just offending him so much. “Man, why the fuck are you wearing that shirt? It’s so ugly!”</p>
<p>Swan glanced down at his shirt before glancing up at Xia, settling for shaking his head with disappointment. It wasn’t even mock disappointment; it was totally legit. “Xia, this is a sweater.”</p>
<p>Xia, his ass.</p>
<p>“It is in fact a knit sweater, to be exact.” Swan paused and rubbed the sleeve of his knit sweater as if to show the stitches. “Knit. And it’s warm and it’s a pretty shade of green-”</p>
<p>Pretty? How the fuck was that even remotely pretty?</p>
<p>“And I like it just fine. And since I’m wearing it, I get that choice.” Giving a little tug to Xia’s sweatshirt, Swan added “This is fine, sure, but it ain’t as warm or as soft as my sweater.”</p>
<p>“Why you gotta hate?”</p>
<p>Giving him an incredulous look, Swan exclaimed “You’re hating on my sweater as we speak!”</p>
<p>“That’s different!” Taking the turnoff to the fairgrounds with Skov’s lights suddenly behind them, Xia snorted “That thing is ugly!”</p>
<p>“You’re ugly!”</p>
<p>“I’m gorgeous!”</p>
<p>They would’ve kept such immature bickering going if a pop under his tire didn’t freak them out as they went down the dirt road, leading them to the ‘parking lot’ of their crew’s place on the side of the actual fairgrounds. “We should check to make sure that wasn’t a nail or something,” Swan murmured, glancing back into the gloom as Skov parked beside them. “Probs was just a rock.”</p>
<p>“Probs,” Xia sighed, shutting off his car and opening the door. He had no idea why he was bothering to waste his night for Kavinsky. At random too. There was nothing wrong with them having plans or messing around but him calling them out was just plain annoying. The guy was plain annoying, honestly.</p>
<p>But he was fun more often than not so Xia let it go sometimes.</p>
<p>Opening his door and getting out, Swan pulled on the extra jacket he’d brought with him before moving to the side as Skov’s door opened. “Hey, petunia, how you doing?”</p>
<p>“I’m a petunia?” Skov asked in confusion, that cute nose of his scrunching as he shivered in his peacoat. Only Skov would come out this late at night and make sure to dress decent. Swan looked like a freaking homeless off the street with his joggers, mittens, and beanie.</p>
<p>And that damn sweater that was now under a <em>yellow</em> jacket.</p>
<p>Jesus Christ.</p>
<p>“Does that make me a sunflower,” Prokopenko called as he got out of Skov’s passenger seat, looking how a dude should dress at this time of night. Like Xia. Except Xia was way more handsome than Prokopenko could ever wish he could be. “I’m a sunflower for Christmas.”</p>
<p>It made no sense and they all knew it but they let it go. “How come none of y’all bitches got me a gift yesterday?” Xia asked as they walked over to where they had set up a bench and some lighting a couple months ago. There was a gentle glow across the way through the trees, plus K’s car was here, so obviously he was waiting for them. “What kind of friends are you, not getting me anything for Christmas?”</p>
<p>“What’d you get us?” Skov countered, his breaths coming out cold and heavy. “I didn’t see anything from you.”</p>
<p>“How could you when you dumped us for your family?”</p>
<p>Skov was the only one out of them who had spent Christmas with their fam but then, his were like ten minutes away in a McMansion neighborhood so he didn’t have to go far. Xia’s had told him to come but they didn’t buy a ticket and didn’t push it so…</p>
<p>Guess they didn’t want him to come.</p>
<p>Prokopenko had no one except the pops he didn’t want to see and Swan’s family had wanted him to come but he’d told them his friends needed him. They didn’t but like okay. Sure.</p>
<p>Kavinsky, of course, had spent it with his mother. As he did all holidays. Even when they planned something for a holiday as a crew, his mother came first and their thing was always after.</p>
<p>One of his winning points, really.</p>
<p>“What the fuck,” Xia murmured as they walked into the clearing, his words forming in the cold crisp air. “What’s all this?”</p>
<p>Looking up from where he stood beside the bench, Kavinsky set down the last paper plate in his hand on a placemat before coming to the foot of the table in front of them. With a big smile and a flourish of his hands to the set table that had a lot of shit on it, he exclaimed “Merry Christmas, gents! Or I guess, day old Christmas, gents!” He patted one of the spots on the bench as he walked over to where there was a stack of decorated crates at the head of the table. “Take a seat anywhere.”</p>
<p>Sharing a glance with a just as confused Swan, Xia asked again “What’s all this?”</p>
<p>Focusing on lighting a match that wasn’t cooperating, Kavinsky explained simply “Christmas.”</p>
<p>“But like…why?”</p>
<p>Kavinsky glanced up from the colorful candles he was lighting before he moved onto four that sat on a wreath. The crates were stacked atop each other to make their own version of a table. Or like…a tv cabinet shape. A silver tinsel garland was wrapped around the crates while a wreath with candles, a funky ass looking maybe sorta not really menorah thing, and a fancy little paper lantern rested on the top. Each place setting on the table had a sparkly red box beside the plate and there were Tupperwares in the middle. Xia was pretty sure there was food in there.</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>Skov bounced over to the bench and took a seat, Prokopenko following, tapping his spoon on the tabletop. “So like, is this our crew Christmas?”</p>
<p>He gave the match a shake to turn it off before dumping it into their little trash bin. Giving the table a look as he slowly nodded, Kavinsky said nothing. When he still stood there scratching at his hair with not a word coming out of his mouth, Swan asked as he walked over and took a seat toward the front “You did all this for us?”</p>
<p>Eyes that looked wiser and more sober than ever slid over to Swan. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his soccer pants that were too light for this weather, K replied with a shrug “Maybe. Maybe I did it for myself. Maybe I did it for you guys. Or maybe I did it for God. Who knows?”</p>
<p>“Uhuh,” Xia said slowly, too way fucking weirded out for this to be okay. He called them out at almost midnight so they could have day old Christmas together? Walking over to the crates where Kavinsky stood, Xia plucked the paper lantern off and gave it a twist and a twirl. It was obviously made by hand but it was admittedly kind of pretty. Outside of cars, he didn’t know Kavinsky had the skill or brain cells to make anything with his own hands. It kind of reminded Xia of the ones he used to make with his grandparents and Jia. “Is this a Chinese lantern?”</p>
<p>“Could be,” K answered with yet another shrug. It was like he put in all this effort, which sure looked like a lot, and yet now he was embarrassed or something. “Maybe. Does it look it?”</p>
<p>Oh, it did. It was perfect. Xia wondered if he could take it for his half of the dorm. “It does actually…” Giving K a cautious glance because kindness was a weird thing between them, he asked carefully “For me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Jiang was totally weirded out and it showed on his entire face as he stood there, lantern in hand. Finlay took a gander at the table, reaching over to grab the red box on his placemat before a long bony hand stopped him. “No,” Kavinsky said, pushing Finlay’s hand back, “you open them once we’re all sitting.”</p>
<p>Nodding because he was a little weirded out too by this nice Kavinsky who had done an entire Christmas for them, Finlay jutted his chin to Jiang. “Sit your ass down so we can see how this is going to go.”</p>
<p>With his mouth twisted in the confusion he was feeling and with the slightest shiver because Finlay had told him that sweatshirt was crap, Jiang sat down across from Finlay, lantern still in hand. “Okay, I’m sitting.”</p>
<p>“Yay,” Prokopenko said in the deadest of all his deadest ass voices, his cheek resting in his upturned palm. “Okay, K, let’s hear it. And make it fast, I want to eat whatever all this is.”</p>
<p>There were six containers of food sitting in the middle of their table and Finlay was also ready to have a go at them, even if they didn’t taste that great. He’d learned to appreciate every bit of food in life because sometimes, you didn’t know when the next meal was.</p>
<p>“So,” Kavinsky began, rubbing his hands together like he’d just devised the master plan of life, “I…decided that as a crew, we should celebrate day old Christmas together because like…we’re buddies or whatever.”</p>
<p>“Can you at least try to be sincere?” Skov laughed, his eyes twinkling even in the gloom. This boy just always twinkled, even when he was upset. “You did all this and now you’re going to mess up selling it? Put a little more effort.”</p>
<p>K smiled and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he did. “Okay, so, I may have thought it’d be nice if we holidayed together. There, how’s that?”</p>
<p>“Crappy,” Prokopenko snorted, tilting a container as he checked it out. The only thing that mattered in life to this guy was food. It was a little depressing because he needed some ambition or something. “But I don’t mind because I just want to eat.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Skov said, waving his hands to send the acceptance back where it came from. “I will not allow it. If this is a proper and first crew day old Christmas celebration, then we have to do it right.”</p>
<p>“You’re not gonna make us pray or something, are you?” Jiang asked, looking at Skov beside him with a wary glance. His fingers looked cold as fuck but he seemed to have no plans to let go of the lantern and tuck them into his pockets. “I don’t pray, man. At least not to Jesus. I only pray at shrines and temples.”</p>
<p>Jiang had never been to either but okay. He seemed to think he’d pray there so good for him. “Can you guys shut it so we can celebrate before we freeze to death?”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” Kavinsky murmured, walking behind the crate tower and dragging over a plastic tub that had what looked like blankets. “Here, so y’all don’t get hypothermia on me.”</p>
<p>He brought them blankets.</p>
<p>Finlay had no idea what had been going on in Kavinsky’s head these past few days for him to do all this for them, but it was nice once in a while. He had no intentions of complaining.</p>
<p>Kavinsky passed out one to each before clapping his hands together with a little more confidence than he’d had before. “Okay so we’re obviously different religions and stuff but we all kinda sorta like Christmas and shit so I thought we could mash our Christmases together and make a new one that goes for all of us.”</p>
<p>Jiang raised his hand, a small sign or compliance that they could find in him once in a while. “I’m an atheist.”</p>
<p>“Shush, kitten.” Skov broke into a laugh, cutting off whatever words Jiang had for K. Finlay was positive the text they’d gotten hadn’t had the word ‘kitten’ in it and yet Jiang called it so well. The irony. Kavinsky turned to his crate tower and pointed at what kind of reminded Finlay of a menorah.</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>“Is that supposed to be a kinara?”</p>
<p>This dude really had thought out everyone, hadn’t he?</p>
<p>Face brightening at Finlay’s recognition, Kavinsky nodded enthusiastically as he carefully brought it to the table. “I know it doesn’t look that great or close but it was the best I could do. I guess there’s just not enough black people around here for them to sell Kwanzaa stuff.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Swan broke into a laugh, making K look positively pleased with himself. “You know there’s supposed to be seven candles, right?”</p>
<p>Kavinsky shrugged and looked back down at his fake kinara that held only four candles. Blake was impressed that Kavinsky had actually remembered Swan talking about how his new family would always do Kwanzaa with him. It’d been an offhand comment and K had been so high that he actually hadn’t really been in the conversation. They’d all been talking about family and holidays and K had just laid on the floor of Blake and Sasha’s dorm room, lost in his head. He hadn’t spoken a word that entire conversation.</p>
<p>Blake hadn’t even thought he’d been listening.</p>
<p>“Look, man, this is fucking Henrietta. It took me forever just to find a store that sold colorful stick candles. Walmart only had white. The cashier told me about a tiny ass craft place that might have some so I went.” Kavinsky examined his fake kinara some more before rubbing the metal and adding “This was the only candle holder she had that was close in shape.”</p>
<p>“No, this is great,” Swan said, the biggest smile Blake had ever seen on his face. Nostalgia was written all over him as he reached out and rubbed the metal kinara like K had. “This is…really great. Thank you. Really.”</p>
<p>Looking positively pleased with himself, K stooped down and started setting mugs on the table, one by one. “Take one and pass it on, bitches.”</p>
<p>“Aw,” Jiang whined, plain joy shining on his face as he passed two cups down to Blake and Sasha while Swan grabbed his own and left one in at the front for Kavinsky. There were rare moments where you could catch Jiang with still some childish innocence and this was one of them. Innocent joy, Blake should say. “I thought I was a kitten! I don’t wanna be a dog, papa.”</p>
<p>“Oh my God,” Swan said with disdain, shaking his head as he did while K was laughing, a pitcher of water in his hand. “It’s Christmas, Xia, where’s your shame? This is no time for kinky play.”</p>
<p>Blake was not impressed with his kinky buddies. As Kavinsky poured them each some water, Blake snorted “Can you guys be like pious for one second? It’s Christmas.”</p>
<p>“Actually,” Sasha corrected, swirling around the water in his mug as he twirled the cup, “it’s day old Christmas. Get it right.”</p>
<p>Jiang nodded in full surety. “Yeah, we’re allowed to be kinky during day old Christmas so keep your piety for yourself, church boy.”</p>
<p>Blake didn’t actually go to church this time for Christmas. His mother had just wanted them to enjoy the holiday while they could because his brothers didn’t have time to stay long. She hadn’t even decorated properly which had kind of offended him because his favorite thing was seeing the decorations. It gave the proper holiday feel. Hell, she hadn’t even bother lighting their Advent wreath.</p>
<p>He was in fact very bitter about that one. Blake loved lighting it up; it was one of the best parts next to eating and presents.  </p>
<p>Zooming in on the wreath thing that still sat on their little ‘altar’ thing, Blake had a guess what that was supposed to be though he doubted K had found a proper Advent wreath. He was about to ask about it when Kavinsky raised his mug of water. “So like, technically, you’re supposed to use one cup for unity and shit-”</p>
<p>“Can you sell my holiday nicely, please,” Swan laughed, his mug raised nonetheless. His face shone even in the gloom, his smile stretching from ear to ear. Just about as bright as his very yellow jacket. “We’re supposed to each take a sip from the unity cup.”</p>
<p>“But we’re not sharing germs today,” Kavinsky continued, his cup held out like he was giving the grandest speech ever. “So drink your damn water to unity, my kittens.”</p>
<p>“Papa, I’ll beat the shit out of you, I swear!” Jiang shouted with joy, raising his cup to the sky before downing his water. “Joyous Kwanzaa, kittens!”</p>
<p>“Please stop with the kittens,” Sasha sighed after his gulp of water. “Joyous Kwanzaa, my bitches.”</p>
<p>“Joyous Kwanzaa!” Blake shouted after he drank his water, hands to the sky. “And Merry Kinky Christmas!” The guys laughed, echoing his shout. Blake pointed at what he was sure was supposed to be his wreath. “Advent?”</p>
<p>Kavinsky was still red in the face, the laughs still slipping from his lips as he nodded and grabbed Blake his wreath. “Here you go, kinky kitten.”</p>
<p>Blake clapped in glee as he took his wreath and set it on the table. It wasn’t really an Advent wreath but it was a wreath and K had been nice enough to stick him four candles in it. He didn’t give a damn if it wasn’t exact. This was so sweet that he was surprised that Kavinsky was still breathing and didn’t die from all this sweetness of his.</p>
<p>“It’s perfect!” Blake exclaimed, clapping his hands again because this was a holiday and you were supposed to be extra during a holiday. They could judge him tomorrow. “Can I put out the candles and light them myself?”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, sure, if you want,” Kavinsky said, grabbing the matches and handing them over to Skov. Sasha watched as he blew out the four candles and relit them himself, a huge satisfied smile on his face. “Good?”</p>
<p>“Perfect! We didn’t have one yesterday and I was so upset about it.” Skov turned his hundred-watt smile to Kavinsky, his head titled to the side. “Thank you, Joseph.”</p>
<p>“Ew, don’t call me Joseph,” Kavinsky snorted, trying to make it seem like he totally wasn’t blushing from the gratitude given. “That’s weird.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Joseph!”</p>
<p>“Shut your face.”</p>
<p>“This is just a guess here,” Sasha said, nice and loud to cut off these two dumbasses, “but I bet all that silver tinsel is mine, right?”</p>
<p>Kavinsky looked behind himself as though he wasn’t the one who decorated. “You said Christmas wasn’t religious for you but that your grandma always said you had to have silver tinsel or else it doesn’t count.”</p>
<p>He had said that while half drunk like all of them had been – minus Skov who drank but didn’t do drunk – and Kavinsky had been as high as a kite on the floor. If Sasha had barely remembered himself speaking, how the hell did the junkie? Who had been a very <em>very</em> active junkie at the time?</p>
<p>But then, Sasha’s brain had been screwy these past few months so…anything was possible. Maybe he just didn’t remember correctly.</p>
<p>“That’s kinda all I had to work with for you.” Kavinsky shrugged, looking almost sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. “You didn’t make it easy for me.”</p>
<p>Honestly, it didn’t really matter to Sasha. Christmas had only ever been important to him because he had had his grandmother and Nicolas. Without them, not much else had mattered.</p>
<p>Though, the silver tinsel was actually pretty pretty.</p>
<p>Pretty pretty. <em>Pretty</em> pretty. Or maybe it was pretty <em>pretty</em>?</p>
<p>Anyways, he kind of wanted to take the tinsel garland to the dorm and keep it up like all bad people who didn’t take down their Christmas decorations. He wanted to be a bad Christmas person too. His was even better because his decorations came from day old kinky Christmas with kittens and their papa.</p>
<p>They didn’t deserve Jesus.</p>
<p>“We don’t deserve Jesus,” he decided to notify as he accepted his silver garland as though it was the most expensive scarf in the world. Wrapping it around his neck like the scarf it was, Sasha explained “We’re too kinky for him.”</p>
<p>“Especially with that scarf,” Swan laughed, shaking his head with either disdain or disbelief. Sasha couldn’t tell. And didn’t really care anyways. “Will you pole dance for kinky Christmas?”</p>
<p>“No. I’m classy as fuck.”</p>
<p>“He takes fifties instead of dollar bills,” Jiang explained for him. Sasha actually only took hundred dollar bills so it looked like Jiang was going to lose out too. “But he’s not wearing his stripper underwear and K forgot the pole so we’ll have to miss out on the entertainment.”</p>
<p>Even though he was blushing like the virgin he was, Skov cupped his hands around his mouth and, with all the enthusiasm he had for day old Christmas, shouted “Booooooo!”</p>
<p>Jiang echoed the boos with all his might before lifting the lantern still in his hand, waving it around like it was actually lit. “So like, because I’m Chinese, I get a lantern?”</p>
<p>Reaching across the bench and beginning to open up the various Tupperwares, Kavinsky explained “You aren’t into Christmas and I know you prefer New Years.”</p>
<p>Setting his chin in his palm, Jiang stared at K in the way that they all did at this moment as they all thought the same thing. But it was of course Jiang who was able to say it. No filter and all. “Weren’t you high as fuck when we all talked about the holidays? Like, I thought we’d have to get your stomach pumped for an OD, man.”</p>
<p>Kavinsky didn’t deign that with a response, all of the containers now open and even still a little hot. Sasha didn’t know what exactly this food was, but he didn’t care. It was food. “Do we get to eat now or what?”</p>
<p>“Open the red boxes first.”</p>
<p>It was almost funny how fast Jiang’s hand darted for the box and it was even funnier how his hands suddenly became delicate as he opened the box as carefully as possible. A huge smile grew on his face and, as Jiang would often put it, his eyes went ‘totally Chinese squinty on me’ as he pulled out an apple.</p>
<p>An apple.</p>
<p>“You fucking did your research, K, I swear,” Jiang said in delight before he took a huge bite of apple. “Holy hell, man.” Looking to a confused Skov, Jiang explained with a mouth full of apple “We give out apples on Christmas in China.”</p>
<p>“Ohhh,” Skov murmured as he checked out his apple. All the apples were like they came from a freaking photoshoot from how pretty they were. Who knew how long Kavinsky had spent picking out perfectly shaped apples. Glancing over to Kavinsky, Skov asked “What’s for you though? You did all this for us but where’s your Christmas?”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Joseph glanced between all the eyes staring at him, waiting for an answer. A week ago, he’d woken up with the idea for Christmas for them. They didn’t really do their holidays together because everyone had their own family and traditions, but for some reason, his head had told him to do something special. It’d taken a lot of prep and research to the point where his head and hands hurt.</p>
<p>Looking at their bright faces and smiles, Joseph was pretty sure it’d all been worth it. Even including the horrors of him trying to cook all day. He’d done it though so in his kitchen’s face. Joseph could follow a recipe like the best of them.</p>
<p>“K?”</p>
<p>Scratching at his head, Joseph bent down and picked up the towel from the blanket box that he’d wrapped his loaf of pitka in. He’d never done pitka by himself nor had he ever eaten it without family but it was the one thing he’d wanted more than anything to bring to this kinky table of theirs. Yesterday had depressed the fuck out of him even though he and his mother had done a proper Bulgarian Christmas. Joseph had just…wanted his father at the table too. He didn’t know why and knew that he shouldn’t but yesterday, the pain had killed him.</p>
<p>So he’d made pitka just for his friends so that maybe, he wouldn’t feel so alone and empty this holiday season.</p>
<p>“We do like a ton of decorations and shit,” Joseph began, hoping his pitka was still relatively warm, “and there’s a specific way you set the table and shit but, uh, I wanted to share something different.” Unwrapping his loaf which had just a bit of heat left to it, Joseph mentally calculated how to rip it evenly between the five of them as he said “Usually we do it on Christmas Eve and what it is is that you make Christmas bread,” he held up his kind of just a little ugly loaf of bread “pitka, and the head of household gives each person a piece.”</p>
<p>“Did you make bread?” Jiang asked, almost amazed. He glanced around all the containers of food. Joseph had made a dish from each of their traditions.</p>
<p>He’d maybe cried just a little when he had burned his hand for that damn dumpling dish.</p>
<p>“Shit, did you make all of the food?”</p>
<p>Trying not to get too flattered because he knew this was Jiang’s way of being impressed, Joseph just shrugged as he began rip each person a piece of pitka and pass them out. “It’s not like there’s a chef to call or a restaurant to call for this stuff.”</p>
<p>“Shit.”</p>
<p>Skov was about to bite his bread. “Wait, wait!” Joseph exclaimed, making Skov jump and look guilty. He had on a sharp looking peacoat that Joseph and his cold body would totally fight for right now. Maybe he had a jacket in his car. He should actually. A long sleeve was so not enough. “I didn’t finish.”</p>
<p>Waiting until everyone put their bread on their plates, Joseph set his own piece on his plate, the giddiness from sharing pitka making him smile. He felt stupid smiling because he was kind of confused on why he was so pleased. “Anyways. There’s a lot of Bulgarian traditions but this one, the head of household passes out pieces of bread and whoever finds the silver coin has a good luck this coming year.”</p>
<p>A curious look passed on Swan’s face as he began tearing apart his piece of pitka. “So you baked a coin in here?”</p>
<p>“Yup so like, try not choke or something.”</p>
<p>“One coin?”</p>
<p>“One.”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Jiang muttered under his breath, his bread already ripped apart without a sign of the coin. Looking up, he checked out each person’s plate as they checked their own breads. His eyes zoomed in on Swan when a little silver shine stuck out. “Aw, fuck you.” Swan held up the coin, a very pleased smile on his face before he stuck out his tongue at Jiang. Jiang nodded to Joseph, “I want a redo.”</p>
<p>Joseph and the guys laughed as they began to pass out food, each one trying to talk over the other. It wasn’t the most traditional of Christmases but it was theirs, for all of them.</p>
<p>And that made it more special than anything else.</p>
<p>Merry day old kinky Christmas.</p>
<p>Here was to a good year.</p>
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